


let adora wear pants

by advancingambition



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Comfort No Hurt, F/F, Fluff, Healthy Relationships, Post canon, butch Adora, butch catra, discussion of lesbianism and gender identity, gender euphoria, nonbinary adora, trans Catra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25350973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/advancingambition/pseuds/advancingambition
Summary: Catra is observant, which leads to discussions about gender, presentation, and lesbianism.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 74
Kudos: 327





	let adora wear pants

**Author's Note:**

> No warnings for this fic, surprisingly enough. Its like 99% comfort.  
> In this fic, Adora is a nonbinary she/they lesbian and Catra is a binary trans lesbian. Also they're both butch. Why, you ask? Because I fucking said so, that's why.  
> If you're gonna be an ass, just show yourself out right now. If you make any disparaging comments about lesbians or trans women or nonbinary lesbians I guarantee I will post your comment to twitter and publicly laugh about it.

Catra knows Adora.

How could she not? They’d spent their whole lives together, after all. They’d quite literally known each other since before they could talk. They’d grown up together, been together through weird awkward phases and growth spurts, been together since their cheeks were round with baby-fat, been together for all twenty-odd years of life, except for the three rough years they’d spent on opposite sides of the war.

That being said, Catra knows Adora. She knows when she’s embarrassed, or happy, or excited, and she sure as _fuck_ knows when she’s uncomfortable. Adora walks through life wearing unease like a wet blanket. Outside of battle, Adora is saturated with an ever-present awkwardness, like her skin is two sizes too small, or like she’s so used to fighting as She-ra that her normal body feels wrong. Catra knows that whatever is up with Adora, it isn’t just to do with She-ra. She also knows that Adora tends to ignore her own feelings and discomfort, pushing things to the back of her head in hope that they’ll somehow dissipate. Catra swears that Adora has the emotional intelligence of a brick wall. Adora has been followed by a general sense of discomfort since they were kids, and Catra is determined to figure it out. She is, after all, nothing if not a helpful, amazing girlfriend. Adora is rarely ever cocky, or ever truly confident or proud, but when she is it fits her like a glove. Catra wants to see Adora confident, and she's resolved to not let up until she's figured out what exactly keeps Adora from ever being comfortable.

(Besides, of course, her militarily strict personality) 

Catra reclines against the wall at Bright Moon palace, watching Adora as she talks to some of the other princess at the party. Her hair is down, so long now that it reaches the small of her back. She wears a floor-length white dress, which hugs the curve of her hip and shows off her broad shoulders in a way that makes every nerve in Catra’s body feel raw. She smiles and huffs, ignoring the desire to simply appreciate her girlfriend’s strong figure. 

Catra shifts, refocusing on Adora. She isn’t standing as tall as usual, and her arms are crossed almost like she’s cold. Catra knows that she isn’t, however, because the stupid Bright Moon air is always perfectly, unnervingly temperate. Adora is also talking to friends, the same people she’s around daily, so Catra knows Adora probably isn’t uncomfortable due to present company, either. All in all, Adora looks like she just stepped in a puddle with socks; not uncomfortable enough for most people to notice, but definitely icky enough for _Catra_ to notice.

Catra checks the time; its half past 9: a little early for them to leave the party, but definitely late enough for it not to be weird. She walks over to Adora, draping her arms over her just because she can. One of the princesses Adora was talking to, Mermista, Catra thinks, rolls her eyes, mumbling something about PDA. Outwardly, Catra just grins, but internally she preens. She loves being able to be publicly affectionate with Adora, loves the fact that everyone knows they’re dating, loves the fact that Adora wants and needs affection just as much as Catra.

Catra stands on her toes, stretching to whisper in Adora’s ear. She hates that Adora is so much taller than her (except no, she doesn’t).

“Are you ready to go back, Princess?”

Adora nods, and Catra can feel how she sags in relief. _Right call, then_.

They walk back to their room in comfortable silence. Catra’s footfalls are silent on the tile, but Adora, wearing sandals that match her dress, sounds like she’s compensating for the lack of uniform boots with almost comedically heavy steps. When they get to their room Adora takes a shower, leaving her clothes on the nightstand. Catra changes into her sleep clothes, and goes to hang their outfits up.

(The fact that they have to be “dry-cleaned” is funny to both her and Adora. Clothes that can’t be washed in industrial solvent are also still novel, but after the fit Princess Sparkles had thrown the first time they’d put formal clothes in with the normal wash, neither of them were in any rush to question it.)

Catra hangs her suit up first. Her shirt, vest, and jacket all go on the same hanger, and then she folds her pants over another one. She picks up Adora’s dress, shaking out the wrinkles in the fabric before hanging that up too. Catra pinches the fabric between her fingers, feeling how thin the weave of it is. It’s a beautiful dress, and it looked even better on Adora, the cream and gold accenting Adora’s hair and eyes in a way that made her look ethereal.

But Adora still hadn’t looked comfortable in it. Not in a shy, “I feel too pretty and don’t know how to feel about it” way, but in an “I don’t like how I look” kind of way.

Catra rolls the fabric between her fingers. It would be so easy to tear. It’s nothing like the fabric of her suit, or their horde uniforms. It’s too fine, too soft, too gossamer-thin.

Catra thinks about Adora’s everyday clothes. She knows Adora never pays any mind to fashion and knows that Adora likely wears her uniform because she hasn’t ever allowed herself the time or thought to find clothes that she really, truly likes. But Adora always wears dresses to formal events, even though she never expresses interest in wearing them any other time.

Thinking about it, Catra realizes Adora hasn’t ever expressed interest in wearing dresses outside of formal events, either.

Catra hears Adora leave the bathroom. She hears the clatter of her picking up the brush from the vanity, and then hears her soft steps across the room. Catra turns, watching Adora sit on the edge of the bed to brush out her still-wet hair.

Adora, in her boxers and comically large sleep shirt, looks more comfortable than she has all night. Catra smooths out the wrinkles she’s made in Adora’s dress again before walking over to the bed, sitting down in Adora’s lap so they’re face to face. Adora sits the brush down, lifting her face for a kiss. Catra smiles, pressing dry kisses to Adora’s cheeks until she’s laughing and squirming beneath her.

“Catra,” whines Adora, “not like that.”

Catra smiles, bringing her hands to the sides of Adora’s face and her thumbs to the dip of her dimples. “I know,” says Catra, rolling her eyes. Adora sighs and Catra finally acquiesces, pressing her lips to Adora’s own. Adora deepens the kiss, and Catra pulls away, nipping Adora’s bottom lip just to tease. As much as she loves kissing Adora, that’s not her goal for tonight. Tonight, her mission is to talk to Adora, and maybe push her towards figuring out what she likes.

Catra picks up the brush from the bed, choosing to ignore how heated her face feels. Even though she’s been with dating Adora for months, kissing her still manages to send her reeling in all the best ways. “Here, let me,”

Adora’s eyes are wide as saucers, face dusted with pink. Catra closes her eyes, powering through how Adora’s stupid face makes her heart feel gooey and fluttery all at once.

“Really?” asks Adora. Catra doesn’t need to open her eyes to know that Adora’s face is split in a blinding smile: she can hear it in her voice.

“If you’re gonna be such a dork about it then I won’t,” says Catra. They both know she doesn’t mean it.

Adora hums, and Catra starts working the brush through her hair. It would be easier if she was sitting behind Adora instead of on top of her, but hey, she was comfortable, and this position had a much better view. Catra works the brush through the ends of Adora’s hair, moving higher when she stops meeting tangles. She goes gently, moving Adora’s head so that she can better brush the back of her head.

When she finishes, Catra reaches behind herself to sit the brush down on the nightstand, leaning back into Adora to tuck two loose strands of hair behind her ear. Catra kisses Adora softly before pushing her to lay flat on the bed.

Catra hovers over her, propped up on her elbows, and Adora peers back up at her, her right hand coming up to twirl through Catra’s hair. Adora smiles, tugging one of Catra’s springy curls. Catra rolls her eyes, flicking an ear in faux irritation.

“Adora,” says Catra. She wants to talk about how Adora feels, but she also knows that if she rushes into it Adora might be scared off.

“Catra,” responds Adora. She has a feeling Catra wants to talk about something, but can’t for the life of her figure out what.

“Adora,” Catra starts slowly. If the cause of Adora’s discomfort is what Catra suspects it is, then this conversation and future ones will be personal and maybe scary. Catra knows, though, that Adora will be happier if she addresses her feelings instead of ignoring them, however, and so she gives Adora a private smile and starts to speak. “You do know that you don’t have to wear a dress to these things, right?” Catra feels Adora stiffen under her, and rushes to clarify. “You’d definitely look hot in a suit, or whatever, but this isn’t about that. I mean, its not that you don’t look totally hot in dresses too, because you definitely do, but you don’t have to wear them if they make you uncomfortable, yeah?” Catra lets out a breath.

Silence. Catra’s worried she’s freaked Adora out, until Adora breaks out in a shit-eating grin.

“You think I’d look hot in a suit? Wow Catra, that’s pretty gay of you.”

Catra groans, pressing her face to Adora’s chest. “Adora, I’m trying to be serious.” Catra lifts her head, looking Adora square in the eye. She feels her start to squirm again, so she lets up her death stare. Catra grits her teeth. She’s resolved herself to help Adora settle this, and she’s sure as fuck not stopping now. “I know you don’t like to feel obtrusive, but you feeling comfortable isn’t a bother for anyone, Adora. And you don’t have to dress to make anyone but yourself happy, yeah? Not that you not wearing dresses would make me unhappy, because it wouldn’t, but you should dress for yourself, and not for other people’s expectations of what you should wear or how you should wear it.”

Catra looks down at Adora, and can see the beginning of tears pricking at her eyes. Adora’s biting her lip, but Catra knows Adora needs to hear the rest of what she has to say.

“I know you make your chest flatter as She-ra. At the party, I could see how uncomfortable you looked in the dress. But Adora, you know that stuff like that is alright. Being butch doesn’t make me any less of a lesbian and wearing suits doesn’t make me any less of a woman, either. I like how I look, and dressing like this makes me feel good. You deserve to feel like that, too.” Catra pauses, and feels Adora draw in a shaky breath. “I’m not going to pretend I know everything that’s going on in your head, because fuck, that used to cause so many problems for us, but I do recognize when you’re uncomfortable.”

Adora is crying openly now, eyes squeezed shut. Catra can feel the gasps she’s holding in, see how her face has gone red with the force of it. She brings her hand to her face, stroking her thumb over the scar on Adora’s cheek.

(She’s so, so proud at how Adora doesn’t flinch away, so proud of how together they’ve worked past the Shadow Weaver memories face touches used to unearth, so proud that it’s _not_ ruined for them, how it’s a symbol of how far they’ve come together rather than an uncomfortable a reminder of the past.)

“Being a lesbian means a lot to me, and I know it means a lot to you, too. Being butch doesn’t make you any less of a lesbian, and it’s ok if you’re nonbinary and butch, too, and you can be nonbinary and still be a woman and a lesbian. You can cut your hair, bind, change your clothes, change your pronouns, your name, and that doesn’t make you any less of a lesbian or my girlfriend. It’s ok to be nonbinary and still use binary terms. It doesn’t invalidate me or the term lesbian. Gender and presentation are complicated. It’s ok to take however much time you need to figure it out. I’ll be here for you regardless.”

Adora’s eyes were wide again. It makes Catra’s chest clench to see the tears rolling down her face, but before she can wipe them away, Adora pulls her down into a crushing hug. Adora cries into her shoulder for several minutes, and Catra can tell they’re relieved tears by the way Adora rocks them both side to side on the bed, like she wants to dance for joy or pump her fists in the air. It’s unbearably endearing.

Adora rolls them over so that they’re both laying face-to-face on their sides. She laughs, giving Catra a sloppy kiss. When she pulls away she laughs, and then brings Catra back in for a crushing hug.

“I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you, you’re so damned observant.” Adora’s words don’t match her tone. She sounds elated.

Catra laughs in response, twirling a strand of Adora’s hair around her finger. “Yeah yeah, what can I say, I do know a thing or two about these things.” She presses a kiss to Adora’s cheek, and her ear, and the top of her head. “What makes you happy is what makes me happy. The only things I want to see you in are the things that you like wearing. If it’s a dress, I’ll love it, if it’s a suit, I’ll love that too. I’ll think you’re stupidly attractive regardless, but I don’t love you for how you look or dress, dummy. You deserve to like how you look, too.”

Catra hears Adora let out a deep breath. She knows now it’s one that she’s probably been holding for years.

“Yeah?” Asks Adora. The question is simple, and more than a little muffled by the fact that her face is pressed into Catra’s curly mass of hair, but Catra can hear the unspoken words behind it. She can her the _thank you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you_ behind it. 

“Yeah,” answers Catra, bringing their hands together.

“You’d be willing to help me experiment with, um, pronouns, and maybe other things?” Adora sounds hopeful. It makes Catra’s heart soar.

“I’d love to,” answers Catra. She squeezes Adora’s fingers between her own, feeling more than a little giddy herself. She scoots closer to Adora, bringing her lips to her ear to whisper like they’d done when they were cadets squeezed into a regulation horde bunk.

“I have this big, handsome girlfriend you see, who I can’t wait to dress up for the party next week.”

It’s so cheesy it sends Adora into a fit of ugly laughter. Adora snorts, and Catra starts laughing too.

Neither of them have all the answers, and Catra knows it will probably take Adora a while to find the words for how she feels, to find the things that make her comfortable and happy, but that’s alright.

There’s no rush.

***

The next time they go to a party, Adora wears a suit. It’s white and gold, and perfectly complements the red and silver of Catra’s own. They stand out among the crowd, and they look _good_.

Catra can’t help but brag about Adora to anyone who would listen.

_Look at my girlfriend, don’t they look good?_

Catra had asked Adora about pronouns. Adora had decided that she/her pronouns were good, but expressed interest in trying they/them pronouns, too. She’d only been using both sets for a few weeks now, but by the way their cheeks flush and eyes go wide, Catra knows they like it.

Adora _knows_ they look good, too. And, Catra thinks, Adora feels good as well. She’s binding in public for the first time, and while she’d not took the plunge and cut off all her hair yet, it’s shoulder-length and tucked behind her ears. They’re both borderline cocky the whole night, and Catra knows they’re more than a little insufferable, but she has so much fun knowing Adora feels good about herself for once that she can’t make them stop.

In a suit, Adora stands tall, with her shoulders back. She looks as confident as she does as She-ra and it made Catra’s heart full to see. Catra always wants Adora to feel comfortable, and seeing them act free and confident and proud is elating. She remembers how Adora had listened to her when she’d first experienced dysphoria, how she’d been the one to propose growing out her hair, and how she’d helped give her her hormone shots.

Adora had been there for Catra when she’d been growing into herself, had always made her feel good and loved in the otherwise ruthless environment of the Fright Zone, had never questioned Catra’s identity or pronouns when she still wore suits. Catra thinks about how safe Adora made her feel, how secure she makes her feel, and resolves to do the same for Adora. The thought that she can be there for Adora the same way that Adora had been there for her made her want to take hold of Adora and never let go.

Catra wants to help Adora grow, wants to help her learn about herself and enjoy it. But for now, all she can do is sit back and enjoy the party.

**Author's Note:**

> trans lesbians i love you. lots of this is from my own experience using multiple pronouns/whatever. this should be revised and edited pretty soon, so if you see this before i do that then god bless
> 
> please comment i WILL cry


End file.
